The Danger of Idle Minds
by Eliza Beck
Summary: "Yes, boredom is a cage for monsters like me, and some days, I only wish it held me tighter." An introspective piece taken after the fact.


There are many cliché sayings that I won't bother to repeat that state the danger of idle minds. Most of them callously abhor the idea of an inactive brain as it usually leads to retardation and an incapability of making logical decisions further down the road as one no longer has the capability to connect individual thoughts together. The unfortunate problem with this overall generalization is that these researchers forgot to include an individual like myself into their miscalculated equation. What they should have realized is that for some, boredom is a gift, because without it, monsters are born.

_Yes, I am referring to myself._

To further explain my statement, it is important to understand that when a mind as dark as mine was bored, it merely addressed the shortcomings of those around me, rather than felt the need to fix them. When my brain was spitting out calculus equations and answers so swiftly with hardly any thought at all, it may not have been necessarily overly occupied, but it at least did not think maliciously about the murderous scum that stuck to Earth's shoe like the worst of undying cockroaches. Yes, it was not productive when it came to commiserating with the poor, unwell, and uneducated, but it did believe in superiority and the justice system – with all of its flaws.

That was the beauty of boredom though. It was an idea and an existence in itself, so it overtook my senses and sluggishly took my body through each necessary motion in order for me to succeed easily. It was well, _boring_, sure, but it allowed my person to reach the top of the current hierarchy I inhabited so that when my reign in high school was over, I could begin my next ascension from a higher tier than the less-planned fools before me. There was a plan to this boring madness, you see, regardless of how unsatisfactory it was, because I knew that at the end of this needless and uneventful journey, there would be fruits from my labour that would be the tastiest thing I'd ever engorge upon.

But just like Eve tempted by the serpent, I was tempted by an object more enticing than a knowledgeable apple – I was given the opportunity to control life; to be a God.

Boredom no longer existed in my vocabulary.

The notebook was a mystery that I wanted to discover. Each rule that I read lead my mind on a hunt for a significant loophole; the well-oiled gears that heedlessly spun suddenly moving so swiftly that it was dizzying. This intense feeling of comprehension was so new to my mind that it overwhelmed it; intoxicated it, until finally, I had found my addiction. Soon, studying it was not enough and I knew that I needed to up my dosage to get my fix - I had to try it.

Surrealism is the only term that can be used to describe the accompanying feeling to murder. The power that was held by simply transcribing and imaging a face was euphoric to my previously idle mind that it overtook my previous vision of a future and replaced it with something new. That criminal that would have simply dispersed into the horizon, awaiting another moment to rise and wreak havoc on society was simply snuffed out immediately without a wasted moment. Rather than skirting by justice by utilizing a smooth-talking lawyer or flaws within the judicial system, justice could be dealt so swiftly that the scum would only believe that their death was karmic redemption for their previous sins. Yes, that power was available and the concept of squandering it was nearly laughable. This was an opportunity to create an ideal world sans darkness and injustice, and although I knew it would be difficult, I also knew that it had to be me leading this revolution. I was the epitome of justice and purity of heart – I was the perfect martyr.

Now, it seems like I was just as idealistic as the idiots I claimed to be prior to that moment, but at that time, all I could do was continue to revel in the interest and the brightness of the world. It was as if a light was shone down upon everything I witnessed and it encouraged me to continue my plight for a better world. Without hesitation I brought upon justice on the unworthy, killing criminal after criminal until I inadvertently made a name for myself. Kira, they called me. Death. Like a Grim Reaper reaping judgment, I was slaughtering the vile creatures of the Earth so that only the good ones could remain.

It was beautiful.

But beauty diminishes and soon I found myself paired against everything I wanted to be, wasn't, and detested. While I was known by a name, this character that began to challenge my throne was nothing but a letter. L. Loathsome. Low. Litigant. Loser. He was nothing but a stain upon my white shirt that needed to be removed. But unlike the many before him, L was smart; an individual so close to my intelligence that he tested my will as Kira, goading and needling at my ideals until finally I was determined to shut him up. He knew nothing of the aspirations I held for a better world, no, he was hindering those goals with his petty childishness and penchant for games. The moment he sacrificed Lind Taylor, I knew he needed to go.

If mental deliberation and strategic planning could be described as art, our battle would simply be a masterpiece. Two minds that were similar in calibre created a seemingly endless maze of advancements and retreats; each individual meticulously planning their next move in the hopes that the other would simply falter in their logic and lay trapped in the web of deceit that they were weaving. He was bolder, though. Without a single ounce of evidence, aside from his 'gut feeling', the man challenged me so readily, that I will always clench my teeth at the mere thought of it.

Regardless of the intelligence that L held, he disgusted me. Beyond his witty mind, L was everything that I loathed about the world in the most materialistic and superficial way possible. He was unclean and sickly; his pallor so pasty that at times I questioned where his skinny little neck ended and his over-sized white shirt began. His overindulgence of sugar and horrid posture went against every healthcare textbook I had memorized to the point that I found it frustrating that my _equal_, was merely a hunch, disorientated child of a man. It belittled my accomplishments to be so closely connected with the polar opposite of my ideals that I often wonder if it was my own childish tendencies that created the animosity between us.

Nonetheless, L will always be my best opponent. The dance between us was so vigorous that in order to capitalize on his misstep, I had to utilize every channel available to me in order to win. It was a pity that his name was never known to me before he died because although I held him; his widened, shaken eyes staring blindly at my own, knowing what and who I was and finally having the proof to support his endless ravings about my identity as Kira but being incapable of doing anything about it, it was not as cathartic as I thought it would be. L's death was a bittersweet victory as it was not my hands that brought upon justice, but instead, that of a well-played Shinigami that was stupid enough to fall in love with an even stupider human.

It is at this point that I can now understand that my ideal had been tainted.

L's death brought with it a lull of animosity and peace. The reign of Kira continued to flourish, his followers becoming advocates of his justice as they grew secure in the understanding that if they did not commit crime, they would be saved from his unyielding judgement. It was beautiful, these moments of victory, where international governments bowed to the superiority of the figure that I had become. But as I stated before, these moments never last forever and soon I was paired up against two of the most frustrating children I had ever come into contact with – my near-equal included. M and N were second-rate Ls and it disgusted me that these two were chosen to take up their mentor's mantle. They were indestructible together, I now know, but as individuals, they were so weak that it is repulsing that I was ever beat by them.

My true failure was to entrust my reign to those of a weaker mind, however. Cornered as I knew I was, I trusted others to continue preaching our goals for a better world, their minds similar to a sponge as they lapped up my sweet words and easy lies like it was their oxygen. Although their loyalty was never questioned, where the miscalculation fell was in their ability to override my orders and to take their own misguided incentive to do what they felt was necessary. The moment I witnessed the frustration upon that lawyer's face, I knew that like a rat in a trap, I was finally caught.

It rather disgusts me, if I think about how I acted in those final moments. I truly did witness the loss of my sanity here, noting in the cowardice and pure lunacy that I seemed to emit from my open pores. It permeated from me; this ugly, distorted illusion that I had held: a once beautiful dream that became distorted as the journey continued. You see, that's the problem, really. Knowing when one has gone too far is hardly easy to detect anymore. At first, I knew that what I wanted to do with that deathnote was slaughter the unworthy and create a pure world. Murderers, Rapists, Thieves and Liars; I wanted to eradicate them all until nothing but good morality was left standing and a new generation could be borne. The problem with humanity is the fact that we are selfish though, and I know see I was a fool to think I was above my own ambitions. The original line I had drawn between criminals and citizens blurred slowly until it was so distorted I did not know what I saw anymore.

I killed FBI agents, police officers – _L_, all in order to protect the ideal world I had forming. Those people though, if they had not fallen into my midst would have been wonderful additions to the perfection in my mind. Their only mistake was catching my interest until I sought their demise in the good name of Kira.

This is the problem with interest. Interest grows and flourishes and leads to investments of oneself. These investments make decisions and actions personal until it is impossible to find the distinctive line between them, and the logic that they are forming. One cannot stay unattached or apathetic so that when a slight is taken on their belief, it is received like a slap to the face of the individual. This interest makes you _care_, and caring is dangerous.

People do stupid things for those they care about.

Boredom may create an existence of nothingness, yes, but it does not allow you to feel needlessly. For those that are dangerously ambitious, boredom is the greatest tool of hindrance as it slowly mutilates the drive within the twisted sonofabitch until it can be squashed beneath the heel of society. Then, those overwhelming feelings of investment disperse and that person can stand before the crowds as an idol, regardless of their own lack of fulfillment with their life. They will be seen as geniuses of their generation, fawned with praise and a somewhat satisfactory contribution to the world where they followed the corrupted laws to the tee. Inwardly, they'll still think the same of society; a disgusting, dependent race bred upon ignorance, but they'll utilize the lack of knowledge to their advantage and keep their true self hidden, all the while contemplating their carefully-laid plan on how to fix society that never surfaces. So bored, so restless - so unfulfilled, yet seemingly perfect to the untrained eye.

Yes, boredom is a cage for monsters like me, and some days, I only wish it held me tighter.


End file.
